


Impending Silence

by Buckybeardreams



Series: The Classifieds [47]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Classifications, Daddy!Thor, Daddy!Wade, Deaf Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Like very minor between Phil and Clint, Little!America, Little!Bucky - Freeform, Little!Jemma, Little!Leo, Little!Loki, Little!Skye, Little!Tony, Littles Are Known, M/M, Mommy!May, Non-Sexual Age Play, Suggestive Themes, alternate universe - classifications, daddy!Phil, little!Clint, little!Natasha, little!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckybeardreams/pseuds/Buckybeardreams
Summary: Clint struggles to adapt to a silent world.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson & Melinda May, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, Jane Foster/Thor, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Wade Wilson
Series: The Classifieds [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898527
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Impending Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Clint does have some negative thoughts in this about being deaf, and I just want to point out that there's absolutely nothing wrong with being deaf or hard of hearing. This is just Clint struggling to come to terms with his loss of hearing. Any negativity that he has stems from his own internal struggles and does not reflect my own personal views on the deaf community.

"Loki, come on! What are you even doing in there?" Thor complained, exasperated.

It was almost two hours past the time Thor had been hoping they'd be leaving, and Loki had locked himself in the bathroom. Thor could hear the shower running, but it'd been running for the past thirty minutes. He couldn't fathom that Loki really needed that long to get clean. Thor gave him a bath every night. He couldn't possibly be dirty enough to require this much scrubbing, could he?

"Leave him alone, Thor. I think he's anxious about leaving." Jane said.

She'd put off going to work, so she could be there to say goodbye. Thor was grateful for that. He'd never get in between her and her work, but he knew that Loki would appreciate it. Thor was also happy to have as much time with her as possible, before he left. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her.

"I know. I'm starting to wonder, if this was maybe a bad idea. There's been so much happening lately. So many injuries in the past few months. Maybe traveling right now is just too much."

Jane shook her head.

"I think it's the exact reason you should be getting away. Especially, since Clint was in a coma. I'm not trying to suggest that he wasn't affected by Bucky losing his arm, but Clint being in a coma definitely triggered him, Thor. It was too similar to your dad. Different circumstances that caused it perhaps, but the fear that they'd never wake up, was the same."

Thor nodded. He knew this. He too had struggled with the uncertainty and constant fear that gripped him when their dad was in a coma. Clint's injury hit a little too close to home for comfort. It was the primary reason that Thor wanted to visit his dad. They looked up, when the door cracked open. Loki was standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist, but a haunted look in his eyes.

"Are you almost ready, Loki?" Jane asked, softly.

He shook his head.

"Thor, I- I can't do it. I need help." He admitted, his voice barely audible.

Thor let go of Jane immediately and led Loki back into the bathroom.

"What do you need help with, Lolo?" He asked.

"Everything. I'm a mess, Thor. I just- I don't know what to do." Loki said, sounding so lost.

Thor swallowed down the lump in his throat and picked up the hair brush. He pulled it gently through Loki's hair, detangling the damp strands.

"Don't worry about it, Lolo. I'll do it for you."

Loki glanced at him in the mirror, before looking down. His eyes tracing the lines in the marble counter. He hated admitting weakness. He didn't want to need help all the damn time. He wished he wasn't always such a mess. So much so that he could barely stay Big. It was honestly a shock that he was Big now, given the tumultuous emotions waging war inside of him. Surely, it wouldn't be long before he gave in to the safety of being Little.

"I'm sorry."

Thor stopped mid stroke. He glanced at Loki's reflection, meeting his eyes, and pulled the brush the rest of the way through his hair, before setting it down. He turned Loki around and pulled him into his arms.

"Shh, don't be. You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Loki did know that. It only made him feel guiltier.

"I should he able to do more."

"You can do more, Loki. You're capable of doing it all. Being physically capable and being emotionally stable enough, are two very different things. You struggle in your mind. That's okay. We all do sometimes."

Loki shook his head.

"It's not the same for others. I struggle all of the time. My anxiety. My depression. It prevents me from functioning the way I know I should be able to."

"Beng Little to cope isn't a bad thing, Lolo."

"I hate it."

Thor shut his eyes. Hearing that broke his heart. Thor liked that Loki was able to be so care free when he was Little, but sometimes he did wonder if he wasn't doing enough to help him when he was Big. If maybe Loki wanted to be Big more, but chose not too, because it was so hard for him. The doctors had brought it up before. How they felt that Loki was just running from his Big problems by staying Little almost twenty-four seven.

"Do you wish that we would handle it differently? We can try meds again. I have nothing against it, Lolo. You know that. We can do whatever you want to do." Thor said, his voice gentle.

"It won't help. I'll still be Little. I'm always going to be Little. I can't make it stop." Loki said, sounding so ashamed.

Thor frowned.

"I don't mean medicating you, so you're not Little, Loki. You are a Little. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. If you feel that you're struggling and you want to get help, other than just therapy, of course we can do that. We can try other things, so that you can have an easier time when you're Big. Not so that you're not Little. I love it when you're Little, just as much as I love it when you're Big. I just want you to be happy, no matter what headspace you're in."

Thor would do anything for his brother. It was true that Loki had a bad experience with meds, but not all meds worked for everyone. Thor would never push the subject, though. It wasn't his place to decide. Loki may be his Little and his brother, but he was still an adult and it was his decision.

"I don't want meds, Thor." Loki said, a pout on his lips.

"Okay. I won't push it. I just want you to be happy, Lolo. I promise that's all I want."

Loki didn't struggle so much when he was Little. He struggled, but in different ways. His speech wasn't always as clear. He wasn't always as capable of doing things, but he didn't lack the energy and motivation to do them, the way he often did when he was Big. He didn't struggle socially when he was Little, the way he often did when he was Big. His doctors always said he was lucky. That not all Littles experience the same relief that he did in his headspace. Loki didn't feel so lucky, though. He felt like a burden.

"Do you want to go on this trip, Loki? We don't have to."

"No, I want to go." He rushed out.

He really did want to go. He wasn't just saying it. He was excited about the trip. He was anxious about Jane and Darcy not being there. He didn't want to be so far away from them, but he wanted to see his parents.

Thor sighed and kissed his head.

"Okay. Whatever you want, Lolo."

Loki wrapped his arms around his waist and clung to his older brother.

"Just don't leave me."

"Never." Thor promised.

* * *

Clint knew that Tony was trying to be nice by doing this for him, but he kinda hated him for it. Maybe that was unfair. Tony was trying to help him. Clint just felt bitter. It really had less to do with Tony and more to do with the fact that Clint really hated everything these days. He tried so hard to put on a brave face. He tried to mask the pain. The truth was, he was scared and uncertain and being deaf made him feel alone. Cold in a way that he remembers feeling many years ago, back before he had Phil in his corner. Somehow it felt even colder now. Knowing that he had Phil, but it didn't seem to matter.

Phil couldn't give him what he desperately wanted. He couldn't fix this for Clint. Clint knew it was killing him, too. He hated that more than he hated the silence. He hated that Phil felt helpless. Even more so than he hated feeling helpless himself. That was the thing about caring about someone that Clint really hated. Your own suffering could be unbearable, but somehow, their suffering was always worse for you. Always hurt you more, in a way that your own suffering never could.

So, yeah. Clint really hated things these days.

"These are better than anything you can buy on the market right now. I promise you that. That doesn't mean you'll be able to hear exactly the same as you used to."

The words Tony spoke popped up on the screen in front of Clint for him to read them. He read them, but his patience was running thin. The silence was unnerving to him. Seeing things, but being incapable of hearing the sounds that accompany those actions. It was terrifying, in an eerie sort of way. Like he was constantly living that moment in the horror movie where everything goes just a little bit too silent, before the crazy killer shows up and starts murdering everyone. Okay, so maybe that's only relatable if you watch truly awful horror flicks. Another thing that he could no longer truly enjoy. He felt a twinge in his chest over the loss of watching stupid movies with Nat and getting way too into making fun of them. It wasn't that he couldn't watch movies, but without the sound, it was just depressing. A constant reminder of what he'd lost and everything that he was missing out on.  
  
Clint was a spy. He was taught to take in everything in his surroundings and use his judgement and training to decipher how to best adapt and react in any given situation. Now, he felt lost. In a sea of sounds, Clint was tumbling around, hitting the rocks, but unable to hear the roar of the waves that he collides with.  
  
His heart was picking up. He couldn't do this right now. He didn't doubt Tony had made him the best possible hearing aid you can get. He just didn't want it. He didn't want to be deaf. He didn't want to hear electronically. He wanted _his_ hearing back. Maybe he was being petty. Tony could give him so much back. Probably. Still, Clint was scared to get his hopes up. Surely, he'd be disappointed. Electronic hearing couldn't possibly compare to what he'd lost, could it?  
  
Words were still darting across the screen, as fast as Tony was speaking. They gathered in paragraphs, forming clusters of words for Clint to go back and read, so he wouldn't miss anything. Phil was saying something. Clint could see his lips moving, but they made no sound. At least, none that was audible to his ears. Phil's words popped up on the screen in a different color.

"What about water? Can they get wet?"  
  
"They are water proof. They can be fully submersed in water, without any negative impact to the hearing aids. All hearing aids are these days, in case they happen to get wet from rain or an unexpected fall into a body of water. He'll be susceptible to ear aches, if he wears them for an extended period of time, while they're wet. So, I wouldn't suggest leaving them in for a swim in the pool."  
  
Clint stood up abruptly. Both men stopped talking and looked to him. Tony raised a brow, and Phil gave him a concerned look. He'd been getting a lot of those recently. More than he'd like. He huffed in annoyance.  
  
"I need to go. Thanks, Tony, but we'll have to finish this some other time."  
  
Both of them cringed slightly when he started to speak, so he assumed his volume was too loud. He tried to adjust, to make it come out quieter. He's not so sure he succeeded. He walked out of the room, not looking to see if Phil was following. He didn't need to. He knew he would.  
  
When they got to Clint's floor, he stood there staring at the wall. His nails dug into his palms and his teeth bit into his lip. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Feel the heaving of his chest and racing of his heart beating against his rib cage. He could see the tears, making his eyes bleary as they filled his vision.  
  
Phil came up behind him and put his hand on Clint's shoulder to alert him of his presence. It wasn't necessary. Clint already knew he was there. Not just because Phil was always there when he needed him, but because he could feel the vibrations of his footsteps as his loafers tapped against the hardwood floor as he approached.  
  
Clint turned into him, sobs wracking his smaller frame. He hated this. He really did. He felt like his whole world was falling to pieces around him, and he was left standing all alone in the wreckage. The silence was lonely. So damn lonely.  
  
Phil's arms wrapped around him, and held him close. He murmured words in Clint's ear on instinct. Clint knew he was doing it, because he could feel Phil's lips brushing against his ear as he spoke. It only made Clint cry harder. He clung to Phil. He felt so small. So Little.  
  
He was crashing. Crashing hard. He wasn't on the edge, he was falling. A free fall to what felt like an inevitable death. He anticipated the rocks that would impale him when he hit the bottom. He didn't hit them. Phil caught him.  
  
He lifted his Little into his arms and rocked him slightly, back and forth, back and forth, in what he hoped were soothing motions. Phil was frantic, panicked, but he wouldn't let it show. He needed to stay strong for his little bird. Clint didn't realize it, but he was saying daddy over and over as he cried.  
  
It took a moment for it to click in his brain. The movement of his jaw shifting. The way his mouth and tongue formed the word. It took him a moment to realize what it was his body was saying, because his brain hadn't been fully aware he was doing it.  
  
He said the word on instinct. He always called out to his daddy when he was distressed. Daddy knows how to make everything better. The problem was, Daddy couldn't make this all better.

He could be there for Clint through this struggle. He could support him and hold him. Help make his life easier. But he couldn't make the problem go away. Daddy couldn't fix his ears. Couldn't give him back his hearing, even if Clint was on the bestest of behavior. Even if Clint begged him to. All Daddy could do was be there for him. Clint just hoped that would be enough. Phil was hoping that it would be enough, too.  
  
  


* * *

Peter bit his lip to keep from pouting. He was really looking forward to spending some time with Tony in the lab. Now, Wade was telling him that Tony was Little and he'd be going to Phil and May's apartment with Bucky. Peter had never seen what the place was like before, but he was curious to see it, especially now that it was gonna be bigger. He was bummed that Tony was Little, though. He had really wanted to spend time in the lab together.

"Ah, don't look so sad, kid." Wade said, sitting next to him on the couch and pulling the teen into his side.

Peter full on pouted at that, turning to bury his head in his dad's neck.

"Do I have to go?" He whined.

"Of course you don't, but I think you'll regret it if you don't."

Peter huffed, but knew Wade was right. He missed Tony. He wanted to spend time with him, Little or not. He was just disappointed about the change in plans.

"I'm sure it'll be fun. Leo and Jemma have all sorts of cool science stuff, I'm sure. Plus, you and Tony could maybe teach Clint some signs. Wouldn't that be cool?"

Peter shook his head stubbornly.

"No, Daddy. Do' wanna!" He whined.

Wade chuckled and pulled him fully into his lap, snuggling him up close. He rubbed Peter's back as the Little pouted, his fingers slipping into his mouth. Wade gently pulled them out, grabbing a pacifier off of the coffee table to replace them with. Peter sucked on it, the plastic bobbing in his mouth.

"Come on, Petey. Let's get you ready, hm? If you don't like it when we get there, we can always come back home."

Peter rubbed at his eyes.

"Do' wanna."

"How about a bottle before we go?"

Peter opened and closed his fist to sign milk.

"Baba." He agreed.

Wade smiled and kissed his head.

* * *

Peter's eyes were wide as he looked around the large space, taking in the new surroundings and all the chaos. Leo and Jemma were making paper mache bowls at what appeared to be a crafts table. Bucky and Tony were playing some game that involved an assortment of balls and cloth bags. May was holding Skye on her lap, reading her a story. Tasha was hovering around Phil, who was holding a sulky Clint. Kate looked amused as América tried to dress a barbie. Peter really didn't want to be left here amidst all the commotion. It was one thing to be around a whole bunch of older Littles, when he had his daddy or Ned there, but it was an entirely different thing to be left on his own.

Especially when all of the Littles seemed to be caught up in their own activities. Wade didn't try to set Peter down right away, and for that the baby was grateful. He held Peter in his arms as he talked to Phil.

"Does he not want hearing aids?" Wade asked.

Phil sighed, rocking Clint gently in his arms.

"I don't know. He seems reluctant to use them. We did the earmold impressions and Tony used them to make him a set of custom hearing aids, but I think Clint's scared to try them. He agreed to it, at first, but when we went to see Tony today and get them, well, it didn't go so well."

"I'm sorry. He looks miserable."

"I know. He is, and I don't know how to make it better."

"I'm so sorry, Phil. That's honestly the worst feeling to have as a parent. Just not knowing how to help."

Wade glanced down at Peter. The baby looked overwhelmed, but content to just be in Wade's arms. At this rate, Wade would probably end up canceling his interview to stay with him. He didn't really mind, either. If he could, Wade would cancel his whole life, just to be with Peter all the time. There really wasn't anything more rewarding than being a parent, as far as Wade was concerned.

Even when Peter was a teen, and driving Wade crazy, he still wouldn't give it up for anything. Admittedly, he did wish MJ and Gwen wouldn't corrupt his innocent little boy with their perverse ways. The things he heard through the walls, that they apparently thought were much thicker than they were. He grimaced just thinking about it. He really didn't want to think about. He'd much rather pretend that Peter was always a sweet little baby, like he was now.

"Yeah." Phil said, with a heavy sigh, burying his nose in Clint's hair. "I'm gonna go lay down with him. I don't think he really likes it when so much is happening around him. I think the silence amidst the chaos is disorienting for him."

"Yeah, of course." Wade said. "Do you want to play, Petey?" 

Peter shook his head and hid in Wade's neck. Wade just chuckled. He sat down next to May, who was working her way steadily through Charlotte's Web. Skye had a doll in her arm and a lollipop in her mouth as she listened to the story. Wade had a sneaking suspicion that Peter was going to want a lollipop, too. 

* * *

Phil and Clint were curled up in bed. The covers pulled up to their shoulders. Clint was staring at him, his fingers tracing the lines of his face, before poking at his cheek. Phil's lips twitched into a smile and he nipped playfully at Clint's finger, making him giggle and pull his finger away.

"No, Daddy!" He shrieked.

Phil laughed and kissed his cheek. He pulled Clint closer, but the boy squirmed out of his hold and pushed away, huffing. He sat up, drumming his fingers on the bed. Running his hand over the sheets. His feet kicking the bedding off of him. His hands pulling them back, when he felt the chill of the room. He flopped back down and rolled over, before pushing back up again.

"I'm bowed, Daddy!" He whined.

Phil sent him a sympathetic look and pulled Clint back into him. He was really hoping that Clint would settle and maybe even take a nap. The toddler huffed, but let himself be cuddled into his Caregiver's chest. He nuzzled against Phil, laying there for maybe five minutes, before pushing away again. Clint groaned and climbed out of bed, a scowl on his features. He paced the floor and Phil sat up, watching him with concern.

Phil had been working on learning signs, so he could more easily communicate with Clint, but Clint was resistant to learning. Phil had a feeling it had to do with a desire to not admit defeat. Like learning to sign was admitting that he'd never hear again. It wasn't, but Clint seemed to think that it was.

"Phil, I can't keep doing this. I can't live like this." Clint said.

The anguish in his voice, broke Phil's heart. That seemed to happen a lot recently. Phil was constantly heartbroken. Clint knew when Phil approached him, even though he didn't see him stand up. He turned and collapsed in his arms, knowing that Phil would catch him. Hold him up and keep him safe. Phil just held him as Clint sobbed into his chest. Phil fought off the desire to whisper soft words to him. That only made Clint sadder when he could feel Phil's lips moving against his ear, murmuring words he couldn't hear, but it was a hard habit to break. Phil had been comforting Clint with soothing words for years.

Clint has been on an emotional rollercoaster, ever since he was released. Phil suspected that it was because he was trying so hard to hold it together. Trying to keep it all inside, until the cracks in the dam were so big, that the water broke through and flooded out.

"I want to take a shower. I feel gross." Clint muttered, sounding bitter, as he pulled away.

Phil hesitated. He wanted to be there, if Clint needed him, but he didn't want to suffocate him by being overbearing. It was hard to leave him alone when he was so unstable, though. Clint seemed to be constantly shifting between his headspaces, never really fully one or the other. Which wasn't uncommon for a distressed Little, but it did make things challenging for both the Little and their Caregiver. That in between space was a fine line to walk. One where Clint often felt Big enough to be an adult, but was one wrong step away from slipping into his headspace.

Phil was relieved when Clint stopped at the door and looked back at him.

"You coming?" He asked, sounding almost shy, like he thought Phil might actually refuse.

Clint didn't ask for assistance. He undressed, but it wasn't the way a toddler might attempt to undress themselves. His movements were smooth, absent, as though he was on autopilot. He was clearly leaning towards Big, at least for the moment. Clint frowned when he glanced at Phil.

"Aren't you gonna join me?" He asked, raising a brow.

Phil didn't want to object, but he was also reluctant to. Clint had always had a thing for shower sex, but Phil wasn't going to have sex with him while he was in such a fragile state. Phil was very careful to ensure that Clint didn't drop when they were intimate, and he knew that fooling around right now would be a disaster. Clint rolled his eyes at Phil's hesitant expression and stepped forward. Pressing his lips to Phil's. Kissing down his jaw and nipping at his neck.

"Oh, come on, Phil. I know you want to. Don't ruin all of my fun. I'm not that much of a mess right now, am I?" Clint murmured.

Phil disagreed. Clint was a mess. Not that Phil would ever use those words to describe it to him.

"I might not be able to hear you, but you can still hear me, so it's not like consent's an issue."

Phil rolled his eyes. Consent was not a one way street and Clint knew that. Phil knew that Clint would say anything to get his way, though. Whether he really believed it or not.

"Besides, you didn't complain when you gagged me with-"

Phil clapped his hand over his mouth, sending him a stern look. Now that just wasn't playing fair, and Clint knew it. Clint's eyes just sparkled mischievously at him and his tongue darted out to lick Phil's hand. Phil rolled his eyes at the childish act. He knew Clint well enough to know that he was childish and obnoxious, even when he was Big. Not that he really believed Clint was fully Big. He didn't stop Clint when he started to peel his clothes off of him, but his hand did grip Clint's wrist, when it strayed down and tried to wrap around his dick.

"Clinton." Phil said sternly, sending him a warning look.

Clint didn't have to hear it, to know what Phil was saying and the exact tone he said it in. He pouted, batting his eyelashes. Phil just raised a brow, thoroughly unimpressed. Clint huffed, but stepped into the shower, pulling Phil in with him. Phil hissed, cursing, when the water sprayed down cold. He reached out to bat Clint's hands away and adjust the temperature. Clint just bursted out into laughter, doubling over as he clutched at his belly. Phil rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but chuckle.

Clint was still laughing slightly, as he straightened up, slumping back against the cold tiles and tilting his head back, letting it fall against the tiles, too. Phil raised a brow at him, amused. Clint just laughed and shook his head, pushing off of the wall. He wrapped his arms around Phil, mouthing at his shoulder. Phil sighed, but wrapped his arms around Clint's waist, too, and pulled him closer, resting his head on Clint's. It was nearly impossible to deny Clint what he wants. Not that Phil had any intention of letting Clint get carried away. Clint didn't push it, for once. He knew Phil would just stop him. Well, he didn't push it by trying to grab his dick again, at least.

He dragged his nose down the length of Phil's throat, his teeth scraping against his shoulder, and his hands slipping up until he could scratch his nails down Phil's back. Clint smirked as he felt the groan that it elicited from Phil. He leaned into the feeling. Rubbing their cheeks together, and brushing his lips over Phil's cheekbone. He licked his lips, kissing him before whispering in his ear.

"Daddy." He said, his voice a seductive caress.

Phil tensed and pulled away from him. Clint bursted out into laughter again.

"Jesus, Clint! You know I hate it when you do that!"

Clint couldn't hear his words, but he could guess from the outraged look on Phil's face. It wasn't the first time Clint had teased Phil like that, and Phil reacted negatively to it everytime. Clint honestly thought it was hilarious. Phil wholeheartedly disagreed. Clint was clutching at his chest like he'd been wounded in battle and slid down the wall, until he was on the ground. His body shaking from laughter.

Phil glared at him and slammed off the water. Screw showering. Phil knew it was a bad idea. Neither of them really needed a shower anyways. Clint was clearly just trying to cause trouble. Phil grumbled under his breath, irritated, as he dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. Muttering about why the hell he put up with this shit. Clint was still giggling as he pulled himself off the cold tiles and dried off. He pulled on one of Phil's button up shirts and a pair of briefs, before clambering into bed. His hair dripping onto the bedding. Phil narrowed his eyes at his choice of attire and Clint just grinned at him, looking a little too innocent.

Phil rolled his eyes, dressing, before leaving the room. It didn't take long before Clint was following after him like a lost puppy, a pout on his lips. Phil was clearly brooding on the couch. May raised a disapproving brow at Clint that made him think Phil had shared what happened with her, or maybe she'd just guessed. He blushed and padded over to Phil, curling up in his lap.

Phil's jaw clenched, but he wrapped his arms around Clint. Clint just rested his head on his chest. When he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that they were alone in their own little bubble. He liked that.

"Sorry, Daddy." He mumbled, his fists clenching in Phil's shirt.

Phil just sighed and kissed his head in response. Clint tilted his head, when Bucky ran up to him and tugged on his sleeve. His lips were moving and Clint knew he was speaking to him. Bucky was clearly excited about something. Clint followed his gaze to where Bucky was pointing to a pile of pillows on the ground in front of one of the couches. He grabbed Clint's hand, tugging him impatiently, until Clint allowed himself to be dragged off.

While they jumped off the couch onto pillows, which May didn't seem thrilled about, Peter and Tony were building with blocks across the room. Wade had left, May urging him to not skip his interview and promising that Peter would be fine. He was. Once he got over his initial shock, Peter fell right into playing. Leo and Jemma had finished their project. Their paper mache bowls left out to dry. They had retreated to their room to play with toys that the younger Littles couldn't play with without adult supervision. Skye wandering off after them when she got bored of Charlotte's Web. Tasha wasn't there either, so Clint assumed she was in her room. Kate and América had also wandered off. Clint doubted that they were with Tasha, but they might have followed Skye to Leo and Jemma's room.

The pastel colored foam blocks were stacked up high. Some of the blocks jutting out at odd angles. Tony doubted the structural integrity of the tower, but he nodded encouragly as Peter added another block. He knew logically that he shouldn't be surprised when it toppled over, but he gasped, and felt surprised anyways.  
  
"Uh-oh!" Tony said.  
  
Peter pouted, but quickly recovered and started over again. Tony tilted his head as Peter put a rectangular block on top of a square shaped one. Tony was pretty sure this tower wouldn't last very long. He pushed himself up and wondered over to shelves of toys. He eyed a box, pulling it down. It had a yellow board with an assortment of pegs, each one round. Tony had something like this at home, but his had different shaped pegs. The stars were his favorites, but he liked that the circles could lean over quite a bit, before they came crashing down. Tony sat down and dumped it out, the round pegs rolling across the floor, but not going far as they got caught in the shaggy carpet. Peter looked over in interest and abandoned the blocks. Tony grinned at him.

"Peg?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, pegs." Tony agreed, patting the ground next to him.

Peter plopped down and looked at the different colored pegs. Peter also had a peg board at home. Wade had used it to teach him colors in ASL. The signing game, as Wade called it.

"Ga'e." Peter told Tony, pointing at the pegs.

Tony tilted his head.

"Pway?"

Peter nodded, shaking both his hands . Tony giggled and mimicked him, before grabbing a yellow peg. Tony held out two of his fingers and shook his hand to sign yellow. Peter grabbed a yellow peg and set it on the board, before looking expectantly at Tony. Tony placed down his own peg and pinched together his pointer and thumb, shaking his hand. Peter tilted his head thoughtfully, before grabbing a green peg and setting it on the board.

"G'ee." Peter told Tony, who nodded in approval.

They continued until the board was full, before dumping it over and starting again. The board was half full, when Clint and Bucky wondered over.

"Whatcha doin'?" Bucky asked.

"Dat's mine." Clint said at the same time, looking perturbed.

Tony blinked at Clint making two thumbs up and bumping his fists together, before sticking out two fingers and shaking both of his hands.

"Pway game." Tony told him as he signed.

Clint furrowed his brows at him. Tony tapped his pointer finger against his lip. Looking expectantly at Clint. Peter understood the point of the game and picked up a red peg, tapping his finger to his lip.

"We'." Peter said, as he placed it onto the board.

"Oh!" Bucky gasped picking up on it.

He grabbed a red one, tapping his finger to his lip. He set it on the board next to Peter's peg, before nudging Clint with his elbow and pointing at a red peg on the carpet.

"Do dat one." He whispered, conspiratorially.

Clint nodded, unable to hear his words, but getting the point anyways. He grabbed the red peg, tapped his finger to his lip and placed it on the board. Tony followed suit, before signing the next color. Phil watched them play together from the couch. He was glad to see Clint happily signing. Phil had started introducing ASL to the toddler, and he seemed a bit more receptive to it when he was Little. Big Clint seemed to want nothing to do with it, though.

He flat out refused to sign and ignored it when Phil tried to sign to him. It had been frustrating for Phil at first, because he assumed that Clint would appreciate the attempt to communicate with him. He understood now that it was because Clint didn't want to have to learn. He just wanted to be normal.

Clint had admitted that he already felt like he had to work harder than anyone else to prove himself, because he was a Little, and a foster kid, and grew up dirt poor with a drunk for a dad. The last thing Clint wanted was to be the freak who signed. Hearing Clint say that about himself was hard for Phil. It hurt Phil everytime Clint talked badly about himself. Especially, because Phil could see just how amazing Clint was.

Clint knew that Phil saw signing as hope, but all Clint saw it as was impending doom. If he accepted that he couldn't hear, than he was accepting that he would forever live with the uncertainty of silence. Could he even be a marksman, if he was deaf? Could he still be an archer? Could he go out on missions and remain an agent? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. The possibility that he couldn't loomed threateningly over Clint. He could feel the impending doom and he dreaded even more than the suffocating silence.

Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about that when he was Little. Yes, things were weird, because he couldn't hear like the other Littles, but his siblings and his friends didn't even bat an eye at it. In fact, he was pretty sure that they barely noticed it. That was somehow reassuring to Clint. Like it meant that he wasn't a freak. That he was still normal somehow, despite the horrible deafening silence that rang out around him and made him feel lost in a world of sounds that he couldn't hear. 

Clint watched Tony moving his hands around and tilted his head curiously at the baby. Maybe signing wasn't so lame. It wasn't like it was just the babies doing it. Bucky seemed just as happy to copy Tony as Peter was. When they finally tired of the game, Tasha pulling Clint away and down the hall, Clint was feeling a lot better about this whole signing thing. It didn't seem so hard, and if Bucky thought it was cool, than it probably was. Little Clint may be warming up to the idea, but that didn't mean he'd be as willing when he was Big.

Tasha tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and pointed at her box of dress-ups. Tasha and Skye were sharing a room now, at least when they were Little. The walls were lavender and the plush carpet was a dark purple. It was obvious that Skye had chosen most of the accent colors, since there was pink scattered around the room in a myriad of shades, from the light pink floor boards to the hot pink curtains. Clint plopped down on Tasha's bed. Her blanket had large pink, purple, and orange flowers on it. Skyes bed was a trundle bed, and was currently pushed under Tasha's, giving them more play space.

Tasha settled on her knees in front of Clint. The dress-up bin next to her. She started pulling out things. Skirts, dresses, tops, plastic heels.

"Purple!" Clint demanded when she held up two different heels.

She nodded, slipping the heels on him. They were made for Littles, but mimicked the heels that kids used to dress-up. There was a purple bow, with a dark purple rhinestone in the middle. Clint liked the way the light hit it and made it look almost like it was shining. Tasha pulled him to his feet. Clint whined as she fumbled with the buttons on Phil's shirt, before tossing it aside. It landed unceremoniously on the floor.

Phil raised a brow when he came to check up on Clint. He chuckled, watching Tasha struggle to get a dress over Clint's head. The girl huffed and Clint whined, pushing her hands away. Phil stepped in, before Tasha could try to force his head through the too small hole again. He quickly untied the strings in the back and pulled it over Clint's head, helping the toddler push his arms through the holes. Tasha nodded, pleased, and turned to grab her jewelry box. Phil tied the strings at the back of Clint's neck, while Tasha slipped bracelets onto his wrists. Phil vetoed the rings and necklaces, much to the girls displeasure, but let her put a floppy hat on his head.

Clint squirmed his way onto Phil's lap. The Caregiver was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He wrapped his arms around Clint and kissed his cheek. Clint leaned back against him and yawned, rubbing at his eyes. The bracelets on his arm jangled together as he did so. Clint could feel them moving, the plastic beads rolling against his skin, though he couldn't hear them clinking against one another.

That night, Clint nuzzled into Phil. His cheek rubbing against Phil's chest and his fists curling up in his shirt. He liked the way that he could feel the rise and fall of Phil's chest. He liked being curled up, half laying on his daddy. Clint's leg thrown over him. He liked that he was snuggled up in between Phil and May. Phil's arm around his waist and May's arms encircling him from behind. He liked that he could feel May's breath brushing over his skin, rustling his hair ever so slightly. He just liked being there with them. He liked it, because he felt safe.

Out of all the things that he hated these days, laying in between May and Phil, wasn't one of them. It was moments like this that made him think maybe, just maybe, things weren't that bad. Maybe things weren't all that different, even if they were different in some ways. He hated a lot of things, but he didn't hate this. He didn't hate being here in this moment. His mind calm enough to not feel paranoid or anxious or to overthink things.

His eyes fluttered, open and shut as he drifted in between sleep and conciousness. Drifting in between his headspaces, as well. He was lost somewhere in that in between space, just like he was lost in this big, scary world. The uncertainty of it all, didn't feel quite so concerning, when he was wrapped up in the warmth of their embrace. Phil's free hand ran through Clint's hair, and Clint's eyes fluttered shut for the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> My ability to write/edit has slowed down since school has just begun, so I don't know how consistently I will be able to update this series. Sorry guys
> 
> Also, you may or may not be aware that I've been working on editing some of Tony's backstory recently and after a painstakingly long period of time, I finished his childhood. You can find it on my page. It's not added to this series, cuz it's just kinda a side project sorta thing and doesn't actually effect this series progression.
> 
> Do keep in mind that Tony's childhood was really rough and may be triggering. If that's a concern of yours, I would suggest skipping it, and if you do decide to read it, then read over the tags carefully before doing so.
> 
> Signs used:
> 
> Play: https://youtu.be/qo1AvsD1ZH0
> 
> Yellow: https://youtu.be/Lh2LZplT8eo
> 
> Green: https://youtu.be/AMVIt2W4eYE
> 
> Game: https://youtu.be/0m-wPJj7_2E
> 
> Red: https://youtu.be/s9KsH2d64EA


End file.
